


What does Dot Matrix have to do with it?

by sidekicks



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:57:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidekicks/pseuds/sidekicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, only sometimes, Charlie’s illiteracy got to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What does Dot Matrix have to do with it?

**Author's Note:**

> An attempt at something that isn't crippling sadness.

Sometimes, only sometimes, Charlie’s illiteracy got to him. Dennis and Dee and their narcissism got to him. Mac’s machismo, Frank’s bald head, his mother’s obsessive compulsive tendencies, and Mrs. Mac’s chain smoking all got to him. But mostly -- but only sometimes -- his illiteracy got to him. 

Charlie was surrounded by balled up, some half-eaten and spit out, sheets of old dot matrix paper he had found months ago in some dumpster on tenth street. He’d broken thirteen crayons, four pencils, and a couple pieces of sidewalk chalk all in an attempt to write one short letter and it was goddamn frustrating, okay?

“Hey, Charlie!” Mac bust through bar’s door, grinning like a madman, grabbing a beer and taking a seat at the bar. “What happened? Get in a fight with 1985? They want their printer back, man.” Charlie huffed and scrambled to collect his supplies and get damn privacy in the back room. Mac grabbed his arm, only looking partly sorry, but mostly amused. “Hey, hey! Bro, calm down. What’s the problem?”

Charlie huffed again, grabbing fistfuls of hair in irritation. “I can’t. I just-- This fucking letter, man!” Mac took note of the random bits of paper and crayon and looked back at Charlie a little bemused. 

“Who the hell are you writing a letter to? The waitress? Because, let me tell you, I don’t think she even reads that shit.” Mac paused. “Uh, not to like... rain on your parade or anything.”

“No, no, forget her. It’s not-- just, Mac, goddammit.”

“Jesus, okay, here. Give me that.” Mac grabbed a half chewed red crayon and the short stack of slightly damp and odd-smelling paper. “You talk, I’ll write. Go.”

Charlie stared at him for a minute, anxiously chewing his lip and fidgeting a bit. Mac made a gesture -- come on, asshole -- and set the crayon to the paper.

“Okay, okay. Uh, so... ‘Dear’. Just leave the name blank, okay, don’t worry about it. So, ‘Dear blank, I have something to say, but I can’t make the words happen because I’m illiterate or whatever Dennis said, so Mac’s totally writing this right now, because he’s a lifesaver or something like that. Anyway.”

Charlie took a deep breath, looking around the bar to make sure no one else was listening. “Anyway.”

“You said that already, Charlie.”

“Shut up! Jesus. Okay. ‘So, I’ve got a few things I’ve been wanting to say for a long time. Since like, 2006. Man, that’s a long time and it’s just been sitting in my head, nibbling like rats. Yeah. So, I think you’re pretty fucking awesome, okay? Just hear me out. I think about you a lot. Like... a lot and I don’t know how to stop it, because it’s just you all the time, walking around like a goddamn asshole being awesome and amazing, but also a dick.”

Mac stopped and looked at Charlie, putting the crayon down. “Dude, I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I’m sure that this is a love letter and that is not the way to win a girl’s heart, okay?”

“Keep writing! I’m on a roll! ‘What I’m trying to get at is, I think I’ve been like, in love? Or something. With you, since 2006 or something, and it’s fucking me up pretty bad.” Charlie was red in the face, gesticulating wildly while trying to push the words out as fast as possible. “You and your shit stupid gelled hair and those ugly as shit shirts that you cut the arms off of and your terrible martial arts shit. Man, it’s like I can’t stop, it’s all in my head, but sometimes in my dick and, don’t tell Frank, but I beat off in bed all the fucking time and it’s awesome, but it’s not you, ya know?’”

Charlie stopped suddenly, dropping his arms from their wild flail, looking directly at Mac like he was having a heart attack. Then it hit him. He scrambled to find an exit, tripping over his own feet and making terrible noises like a trapped animal. Mac caught him, keeping him upright, but also within distance of the inevitable fallout. 

“Whoa, whoa, Charlie! Calm the fuck down. Sit the hell down.” Charlie shook his head violently, trying his hardest to remove himself. “Holy shit, dude, just--”

It was a quick -- innocent -- peck on the lips. Well, Mac had tried to the lips, but Charlie’s freak out sent it a little more to the corner of his mouth. It didn’t matter either way, because Charlie stopped trying to get away, his eyes went wide, and a huge grin made it’s way onto his face. “Dude! Wha-- Dude!” Charlie laughed, just this side of manic, grabbed Mac by the face, pressing a kiss on his lips. They both giggled -- manly, only a little gay, giggles -- into it, not able to stop.

“Oh my fucking god, Dennis, you owe me two hundred dollars and your first born bastard. Suck on that, boner!”


End file.
